


Cherished Pet? Sorta kinda.

by onestepatatime



Series: Dwarven Theater in My Head [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarves as small pets., Gen, Mention of past miscarriage., Pet au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime/pseuds/onestepatatime
Summary: After attending the big pet expo in New York City, the only thing that Bilbo wants for Yule is an elf for a pet. Much like a parrot in size and manners, he is enchanted by what he hopes will be his new best friend.After his owner dies, Thorin is passed around, sold, and finally surrendered to an animal shelter with a broken leg. His cage between a litter of kittens and a hobbit is a far cry from Erebor Manor where the pedigreed dwarf was born to be a best of show winner.Bilbo is unwilling to settle for less than an elf, yet still very sad in a way that worries his parents. He becomes caretaker for a rather cranky and untrusting Thorin, whom his parent's adopted out of compassion.Can these two learn to get along? Bilbo did hope that he could have a pet that he could show one day, and Thorin is a purebred. How far can they get without trust or pedigree papers?





	1. Trying Your Best Doesn't Guarantee Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's parents have tried their best to get an elf and must face the facts, and a painful memory. Why did they always meet failure when trying to simply make their son happy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking through my files and found the first chapter half written and totally forgotten about. I've been depressed and the first two chapters reflect it, but life isn't always happy, is it? These two chapters are posted, but I'm working on Ch 3. Do let me know what you would like to see.
> 
> Warning for mention of past miscarriage.

Bungo sighed as he turned away from the computer and got up to stretch. “Oh, my goodness! I’ve sat for way too long.”

“Any luck?” Bella looked up from her knitting, yet another baby blanket for yet another new niece or nephew on the way. She looked inward for a moment, remembering daydreams of making many blankets for her own children. Now, well…Now she would do anything to find her only son the one thing that he had asked for his Yule present.

“No. I’ve received emails from all of the small pets rescue groups. I’ve checked the three major shelter pet locator websites. I’ve…”

“Cost isn’t a concern, Bungo. I want you to check the pet store listings again.” Bella frowned and got up to look on the computer herself. They didn’t believe in showering their son with Yule presents to teach Bilbo to think about what he really wanted. She would not disappoint her child.

“Bella, no.” Bungo grabbed his wife by the shoulders and turned her away from the computer desk and sat both of them on the couch.

“One thing, all Bilbo asked for was one thing.”

“An elf at Yuletide.” Bungo shook his head, ruing the day that he had let Bilbo’s eccentric grandfather take all of his grandchildren to New York City last year to experience the world famous New Year’s Eve countdown in Times Square. Bilbo had come home with a cold, but it had been entirely worth it to the excited child.

For the week that Bilbo was in bed, he had regaled his family in stuffy tones all about the sights he had seen, including the Empire State Building, and unfortunately attending a pet expo at Madison Square Gardens. There Bilbo had seen everything from dogs, cats, even skunks, but also elves, ents, fauns, hobbits, centaurs, etc. Bilbo had accepted a ride on a centaur, but the picture that the Old Took had proudly displayed on his mantel showed a frightened little boy. It was the elves that had enchanted his grandson.

Elves were not immortal, but they were long lived, like parrots. About the size of a large parrot, they could be taught to say words as well as many tricks. Bilbo had thought long and hard this past year, and decided that he didn’t want a hamster that would live a brief time, nor a dog that would die just as he was entering adulthood. With too much wisdom gained from talking far too long with elf breeders, Bilbo had a long list of reasons why he wanted a pet that would be a lifelong friend. Elves were hardy, elves were easy to keep as they were fastidious, etc. Here Bungo sighed; elves didn’t breed easily. Mix a low birth rate in with buyers willing to spend thousands on a show quality, pedigreed elf and bankruptcy could easily result from Bilbo’s innocent request, even though he had said that he would never want another Yule present again after this.

“Bella, even if Bilbo had asked as soon as he came back from New York City, we would still be in this predicament. Elves whelp in early spring, and the waiting lists for pet quality elflings are two years. I know that with the fervor that Bilbo has shown that he will not be happy with anything but a show quality elf that he can train for the shows. As this is a pet that will live for decades, I don’t blame him. We can’t just take out a second mortgage to get an elf of questionable breeding.” Bungo had read a few articles from Bilbo’s “Ethereal Monthly”. He knew the sad products that came from forced, and often inbred, disreputable elven husbandry.

“But Bilbo’s been so sad this past year.” Bella wiped her eyes. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry yet again. She had tried one last time to give Bilbo a sibling, like all of his cousins had. The boy was so sweet and patient with them at family gatherings. Bella had become pregnant the prior February, celebrating secretly until September, when the doctors had confirmed that the child was healthy and the pregnancy was coming along well.

Everything was going so well that, unable to hide her happy belly any longer, they had announced the news to the entire family on Bilbo’s birthday last year. The ecstatic older brother had taken his new duties very seriously, starting a tradition of reading educational books to his new sibling that very night.

“It wasn’t your fault, dear.” Bungo held his wife, tears in his own eyes. Neither of them could understand what had happened to this very day. The doctors had said that the baby had died in utero two weeks after Bilbo’s birthday. How could a healthy child could die from the simple and natural act of turning head down in preparation for birth? How could the umbilical cord that kept the child alive just wrap around the baby’s neck and end a life before it even began?

“I know.” Bella had gone to the hospital when she felt the child struggle. An emergency c-section had only resulted in her being unable to attend the funeral. Bungo had gone alone, opting for Bilbo not to have these as memories of his brother. He had also been worried for his wife and wanted Bilbo to be a reminder that she still had a child who loved and needed her.

“Bilbo didn’t get a brother for Yule like we promised last year. How can we let him down this year?” Bella knew that her father had meant well, with Bilbo specifically in mind, when he announced the trip at the Yule family gathering. Bilbo had shut down in the weeks following their loss, with only the excitement of the trip, and the enchanting elves, bringing back some of the spark of life in his eyes.

“Bilbo learned that life can be unfair. He will understand that we’ve tried every avenue. We will speak to him tonight after school, give him a choice of another pet or we can go on a waiting list for an elf if he is willing to wait 3 to 5 years. Your friend, Gandalf, has a few connections who remember Bilbo from the show. Two were willing to guarantee him a show quality elf, but they will need between $3,000 and $5000 down payment and three hundred dollars a month for the next two years. That’s unless we want to get a bank loan. This is all with the understanding that there is no refund should their breeding stock not whelp, nor if the elfling is nonviable.”

“So we empty Bilbo’s college fund to pay for a pet that might die just like…” Bella’s lips were white from being pressed together. “Bilbo would want to keep tabs on the pregnancy.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want to present Bilbo with a weaned, healthy elfling ready to be a lifelong friend.”

“Which we can’t provide.” Bungo hated the defeated look on his wife’s face. She had only in the past six months begun to replace it with a shadow of her former cheerful self. “Bella, I received several emails from pet rescue groups about several dogs that are pedigreed and several mixed breeds that may be able to show in obedience trials. I think that Bilbo would enjoy the challenge. One is still a puppy…”

Bella stopped a retort as she looked at her loving husband’s beseeching face. Bungo had been so strong for her this past year. “You’re right, as usual, my sweet husband. Print out a few of those emails; perhaps we can go look at some dogs this weekend. A dog is a boy’s best friend, isn’t it?” She gave a weak smile.

“I love you.” Bungo took his wife in a bear hug and held her close.

 ----

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had plenty of mixed breed and shelter dogs over the years that made wonderful pets. You can register a mixed breed dog if you fill out a special request form and send in pictures and proof that they are spayed. Once registered, they are eligible for limited dog show events such as obedience trials.


	2. Depending on the Kindess of Other Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is born into a home as a pampered pet, but his pedigree papers don't guarantee happiness or control of any aspect of his young life.

Thorin didn’t know it, but he was one of only a few dwarves left from the famed Erebor Manor dwarf breeding line. He had been born into the home of an old man whose own grandfather had founded the line of show winners with a champion dwarf named Durin. But the old man had seen his fortunes in the stock market dry up over the years, and he had gradually sold off all of his breeding stock. When his last dame died in birth after whelping only one dwarfling each in three litters, he had sold off all but Thorin.

Thorin only knew that he was born in a soft nest inside a warm covered basket by a fire that was always kept roaring to warm them and the old man who doted on his mother and father. He knew that a brother, and then a sister joined the nest. He knew that he cried when his mother was taken away after she grew cold. He whimpered and hid with his siblings when a man with a cage came and carried off his father. He cried and held his little sister in a hiding place when his brother left with a couple. He screamed and had to have his sister pried from his arms when a woman came for her.

Thorin’s first memories of the old man had been pleasant and nice. His parents had themselves been born in this very house and they had free run of it. None had anything to fear, except the occasional grandchild who came to visit. That was when the little family was locked in the study and hid in their little nest, Thrain standing watchful guard. Then Thorin’s memories of the old man were of him taking away his family. The dwarf sulked in his now empty nest and refused to eat.

Old and unable to afford help or the upkeep, the old man had sold Erebor House and moved into an apartment in the city. Thorin missed the stone patio and the large back gardens where he could wander at will. Instead, he and the old man had bonded over learning to live in a small place where windows were not to be opened and the balcony was off limits. Thorin learned to get his glasses when he forgot where they were and became addicted to soap operas when the man dozed off and left the TV remote within reach.

Thorin didn’t know why the old man didn’t get up from dozing after the last soap opera was replaced by the evening news. He only knew that the form grew cold and no one was moving to get dinner for them. It was two hungry days before the old man’s daughter came. Like Thorin’s mother, the body was taken away. Thorin himself was found hiding in his nest and shoved into a pet carrier despite his protests.

“I have to go back to college after the funeral, Ma. I can’t have a pet in the dorms. Why would I want a dwarf anyway?” A whining teen voice that was too familiar was followed by a face that had been hidden by the locked study door. The boy grimaced when Thorin hid in the back under a blanket that he had dragged from his nest.

“Your great-great grandfather was a famous breeder. You know that your grandfather loved his dwarves. The least you could do is care for the little guy.” Knowing nothing of dwarf care herself, as her parents were divorced, the woman had tried to get Thorin to eat a bit of apple with a cooing voice. He had bit her for her troubles. Now Thorin was pawned off onto her son.

“Ah, maybe he’s worth something then.” The boy picked up the carrier without a real thought for the dwarf being swung around inside. “Does he have papers or something?”

“Your Uncle Eddie is going through Father’s papers. I’ll ask him tomorrow. I didn’t give you the dwarf just to sell him like an unwanted heirloom.”

“What’s his name? You got a name, little fella?” The carrier was again lifted to his face and shaken. Thorin merely blew a raspberry and pulled the blanket further over his head.

“Father said that he named him Thorin II, after one of Durin’s grandson’s. That’s it! The Erebor Manor foundation stock. He is worth a bit of money, you know.”

“Really.” The boy’s smile was too greedy for a mourning grandson, but the woman didn’t want the hassle of a pet with her busy life as a vice president of the second largest bank in the city. She was quite happy with her 100 gallon tank of beautiful and fuss free saltwater reef fish, thanks to the man who came in weekly to maintain the thing.

It was two days later that the boy was standing with another boy in his dorm room. The boy had pulled Thorin out of his carrier for the first time and tried to clean him up. But after a few days without a sandbox, nor a comb, the dwarf looked more like a soaked mess.

Dwarves might not have the shiny blonde or black hair, nor the pale or dusky tones of skin, but they had eyes as bright and beautiful as elves. At least, that’s what the boy claimed as he tried to pawn Thorin off to a friend who had just gotten a new apartment, and a cashed paycheck in his pocket. Dwarves were only half as tall as elves, being about six inches tall, but they had lovely hair in a variety of colors that could be braided and cool little beards. What wasn’t there to love about them? Thorin could even be trained to pick up the trash left around the apartment and make the beds.

“Dwarves live 30 years?” This new boy looked skeptically at Thorin balled up in his hands.

“Durin’s line is long lived, he’ll live about forty years. Thorin was born when I was 15, so he’s 7, almost 8.”

“You got his papers to prove it?” Thorin’s silver streaked black locks were rubbed between two fingers. “I don’t want an old pet who will need lots of vet care. I just had to put my dog down last year. My parents spent big bucks on this and that for him.”

“My Uncle Eddie won’t give me the paperwork for less than $1000. I know this dwarf; my grandpa bred him! He’s not old, he’s a silver merle, very rare! You’re getting a great deal, man. Think of this as an investment.”

“Fine. Here’s $200.”

“The price was $300.”

“I still have to take him to the vet for shots if I’m to keep him, unless your uncle gave you his shot records. Thought not.”

“Grandpa ordered the shots from the pet catalogue. He was a breeder; they all do that.”

“I also know that you’ve been given 48 hours by your house mother to rehome him elsewhere. $200.”

“Fine.” Thorin was thrown back into his now messy crate. He desperately missed his covered basket and the old man with his kind and patient ways.

“What does he eat?” Thorin’s new owner at least sounded somewhat concerned for his health.

“I don’t know. Just feed him what you eat. Ask the vet.” The grandson angrily pocketed his less than hoped for sum and handed the other boy a bag of Thorin’s things that he had not let him have, including clean clothes or a comb.

“I hope that I don’t regret buying you.” The second boy looked at Thorin in the carrier as they descended the elevator. Thorin merely hid under his blanket with a whimper.

\----


End file.
